This is a collection of the poetry of Troy Camplin. As each poem is always a work in progress, comments and criticisms will be taken into consideration, and changes, perhaps, made.

Monday, December 28, 2015

Seeking Dreams

I'm keeping it surreal. Not dripping clocks
Or walking rocks hard fast upon your heal.
The dream will seem to come in cream that tops
The milk can poets lift among the crops.
The crops are fruiting stop signs in long lines
To harvest in the winter when designs
Descend delightfully in dimpled flocks
That not even the Spring would dare repeal.

I'm sure this network field will yield, or merge
With plastic prairies sprouting poppies pure
As coal. Our only goal should be to toll
The walkers and the bells upon the knoll
Until we cannot hear the snowflakes grow
Upon the wind. We've surely sinned to know
And overflow with every mental urge
Until by seeking we become unsure.

The future fades to fact in foamy dreams
Where certainty is certain to succeed --
Poetic lies of pies and plums and pain
That won't refrain -- the dreams of the insane
Bewildering the present to present
A present of the prescient who all went
To where the certainty has turned to seems
And all the dreams are realized in deeds.

About Me

I am the author of "Diaphysics," a poet, playwright, and interdisciplinary scholar. I am married and have a daughter and two sons. I have a Ph.D. in the Humanities, a M.A. in English, and a B.A. in recombinant gene technology and chemistry.